If there is something I hate about life, it is its unfairness to people.

It is in the middle of the night, and I am— daughter of Luther Sievuo and Allison Flinn, is witnessing the gravest massacre of my life.

Knives, guns, swords... blood.

Life and Death.

And here I am watching everything before my eyes, hiding below a dim compartment. Where just above, I could have a glimpse of everything that is about to happen.

Hell had moved its hands, and it is no way in favor of me.

There are such a number of people in our house today and in a different chance, I would be too willing and excited to shake hands and speak of my name. Interaction curtsy as my mom says.

'Aesha Roxinne Dresteca Flinn. 12. Searing mouths would dispatch her as the most favored glitterati. She's every socialite's price possession. And of course, her humble parents will simply describe her as their loving daughter, '

But considering our fallen men drenched in blood as they greet them with their security and protector roles, I fear the guests won't rethink a second to chop my hands off and leer in insanity as they listen of my name.

The house has been ambushed. Our home... isn't anymore a haven. They've ruled it. They destroyed it. It was chaos.

Above all... three persons were notably marked as offerings to the evil.

My mother is lying on the floor, helpless and weak. With her bright white flowy dress torn into parts. Her body... her body is bathed with sweat, dirt, and blood stains because the night has permitted cruelty to reign in our very home, unannounced.

On the ground, is German, kneeling with his body wounded, but the amount of blood leaving his shoulders cannot be ignored above it all. His grey cargo pants and black shirt are catching it all.

And my father, still in his suit from his late meeting, harshly wounded and injected by something I am not aware of, had that ridiculous smirk on his face looking at the person standing above us. Cornered... yet still the dauntless one.

We were just laughing a while ago. How did we end up like this? What's with the bleeding? Why... is everyone out of smile?

And so I tried hard to bite my hand to prevent myself from the wails and shouting when the woman suddenly held my mom up... again... to savagely rip the clothes out of my mother's body like she isn't a woman at all! The screech from the harsh rift and how the fabrics flew to every corner brought more tears to my eyes.

She is also a woman!

Why is she doing this to another? What's wrong?! I don't understand!

Rush of indefinite emotions surged me... and it made me yearn for my dad. The only person who could make me calm... despite everything. So I did. But the glance back at my father didn't come familiar. My father... I caught his smirk fading... but is still there.

It is him. Facing the nothingness in front, and the darkness of his eyes didn't leave him.

He has always been soothing, caring, and gentle in my eyes. To see him in this form is just... way too much...

Who is he?

He is new to me.

For quick seconds I got too terrified, petrified. This man who's jarring everyone with his callous filth... isn't he my very own... dad?

But if he is, why couldn't I relate... to his smoldering rancor?

It was the dread of something unknown that made me divert my eyes back to mom. But then with her is a different unfamiliar sight.

She was of no darkness but she is a lot duller than the shade of what used to be our glowing sunrise.

On stillness, she is letting everything that is about to happen to her, happen, yet the muted tears flowing down her cheeks couldn't escape my watch. And it seemed that those tears trigger more tears in my eyes. Our sunrise has been covered by those gray and heavy clouds and it is now giving heartfelt raindrops.

This is atrocious.

I sobbed and sobbed in silence, hardly preventing myself to make a sound. Feeling all the extra pain my heart is experiencing now. Feeling pitiful again because I can only wield cries.

Maybe if... perhaps if... I only I insisted to go out earlier then this shouldn't have happened! If only we moved our dinner date out, maybe it shouldn't be this way! Maybe we could have prevented it! Maybe we could have lured it away!

But in the end, we didn't. We couldn't.

It isn't in our hands.

My lovely mother... How pure she is to be painted with bruises. How lovely she is to be able to experience this?

As if not getting enough, the woman raised her arms. Her upturned eyes traveling, curious— of my mom's body. Leisurely walking her fingers in every part with wounds, bruises, and blood my mother is having. Exploring every bit she caused her... causing more to the damage she just brutally made.

And if my judgment of what and who she is was not tainted by the awful things she did my family, I would say she looks so gorgeous in that bright red fitted dress, pointed heels, and bold lipstick of hers. That she, in her younger years, could probably be a remarkable candidate of contests that involves all of the beauties around the world! A top-notch at it!

An hourglass figure, a pretty face. Someone who could have you in shivers just by her grace.

But after all the things she has done, I can only compliment her as the lady with those black large horns, screaming evilness in our noble home. A grisly figure of the night who knows nothing but unforgiving viciousness!

And I doubt I would ever forgive... there's will be no forgetting it.

"You've really been a gorgeous woman Allison, it's a pity you have to bruise and die this way, " she lowered my mom's arm gently. As if that gentleness could coax her savagery. As if she never said my mother is to die!

She gently cupped my mom's chin and glazed away the hairs covering mom's whole face. Her features softened watching her. It was amusement... bewilderment... admiration... and novelty mixed in her eyes. Her eyes twitched the unsaid delight.

"Don't you know how much people are willing to die just to be seen by those intriguing frenetic orbs?" It was raw astonishment that I saw passed her eye. Other than that, is pure madness. And I couldn't help but stray away. "Its truly fascinating...how you got all that the world wished for,"

She wiped the floor clean before she placed mom's face in a more comfortable position.

"You should have chosen them than the son of devils."

"It's not fancy seeing you had a bad taste,"

Then she started paving between the tiny space between my mother and German. Uncareful walking. Making her step on German's palm. My eyes automatically closed as soon as I saw its centimeter dig into his palm.

"...Argh,"

German's low grunt resounded hard in my ears, but I knew the pain from a wounded arm stepped by those heels, can make him feel more than just a grunt! He is a really big man but that doesn't equal to him being numb, even if the whole world declared so!

Even if he made it seems like it was just a simple kid thump!

I know he is doing the same thing tonight! For he knows where I am right at this very moment. He was the one to place me right here! I very well know he has the time to hide and chose to be safer here with me, but who am I kidding? That would never be his option.

German is a noble and dignified man, he would never leave my parents.

He would never not fight for mom.

He would never not fight together with my dad.

Cause for how many times he pretended to be invincible in front of crowds, the supercilious legend wouldn't blink a doubt to bend and stretch beyond what he can take when it comes to family.

German Zinni Stefador would stumble, kneel, and crawl the lowest of lows just to keep Allison Ines Flinn away from any insanity.

German would be more than willing to shed blood and fight bare and rascal on a heavy battlefield just so Luther Sievuo Flinn lives the way he is ought to be.

My dearest German... would always choose to not make me see him badly aching for he knows it will cost me more.

He articulated that he is my person. He thought himself as a royal guard to the princess. Truth is I've always been his... Like a castle maid stashing behind the decorated royal protector. Indeed fearful... but serving to him even in the thick of alarm.

And for the record, he's been one of my bravest and firmest dependency.

So hearing him aching felt like taking countless stabs. My restless palms made its way to my ears. I don't wanna listen! In no way he'll ever deserve it! In no way he should be merited these for something he didn't even orchestrate!

But fate is cruel, especially tonight. It even allow me to hear the mere ticking of her heels on the floor, hard and on-point. My tears and frailness suffocated me until the ticking came to stop. That's when I have the urge to open up my eyes. And the first thing I saw, isn't what I wished for.

Because why would I wish for a demoness?

I needed an angel.

The vicious woman now reached an empty space just beside her casualties, crowning herself a victorious position that seethes us all. Radiating a piercing and stern aura, the metallic kind that's effortlessly screaming a relentless slur.

Indeed a person having a beauty of an angel but with the wrath... of hell.

"On how the tables have turned. A family of Flinn is now seen under my glory, who would have thought?"

Stretching a grimace and looking all disappointed, she bent her neck a little to nibble on my mom's state.

"He isn't that worth it after all, I told you so"

That mad smile.

I memorized how she looked like. I sketched all of her in my mind.

I will never forget. I will never ever forget.

Graceful and slow claps echoed and it easily made her catch the attention of her audience. And we were all a slave to it.

"Okay! So now that the opening party has ended. I will never make you wait for any greetings and blah-blah-blah-ba-blah event that needs to happen. Those are just unimportant ones. " She surveyed the room. The sinister smile, an outcast of her angelic face, crept again. "Let us now proceed to the end! The closing program."

Her eyes turned extra with the overwhelming pride she is feeding right now. While mine dimed more as the threat of the dread heightened.

"But of course, let me give you a summary, a short introduction again. To formally end the program. This is Allison Flinn," she paused to skim at my mother, gone was the smile. It evaporated in a blink of the eye. "And she is in her most beautiful form tonight. Right?"

No one answered.

No one... dared to talk.

The line of her smile lose an stretch.

The irritation she must have felt when she got no response from anyone in return, made known. Impulsively, with a few steps, she is in front of German, twisting his head to make him forcefully look at my mom!

But German immediately closed his eyes.

Tight. Final. No inhibitions.

Even if it was known that the woman would cast her claws on those who would oppose.

"Open your damn eyes!" that was an uncomposed thunderous shouting and her neck veins started to appear. But she got no response at all, so impulsively again, she decided to touch German's wounded shoulder, clamping her unscathed cruel hand, making her best to open German's eyes.

Yet he didn't. Even after a while he still didn't. I saw how he handled the pain by himself. With his eyes never opening, hence tightening more.

"Come on..."

"Why are you such a loyal dog German? You were better than this. You are sounder than this! Why are you drooling blood for this motherfucking family?!"

"You shouldn't be here, Illexa," he patiently communicated.

But she was ballistic. "A sickening bull!"

"Why do they deserve it, huh?" she trailed slowly yet impatience could be read in her tone. "Why... do they deserve your mercy..."

I stared at her more. Everything from her posture. Her breaths. Her unwatched gestures. The pauses and strengths in her phrasing. Her diction and tone. She hardly grinned, looking up at the ceiling. As if there is where the answer lies. But then she doesn't second to it.

"Don't tell me they also deserve mine?"

Because aside from what she wanted to say... why?

Why, I thought I heard foreboding cries for validation. To be heard. As if a plea to be understood for something. I don't have any idea how can a voice contain all the contradicting emotions at once. And why among all the people, it is hers that keeps on resonating in my mind.

"They don't deserve your mercy at all. "

Despite my blurry vision and the brief time, I knew I caught heavy disappointment and mourn in her captive's eyes. Visibly worn out, German could still grimace as he lowered his head down. All a pre-requisite for a heavier storm.

"I never thought such a woman could go this far..."

The deep large voice got me and the whole of the room on a startling contentious pause. The night is surely cold but his every word were ice-chill... piercing into every unshielded core.

"Who are you after tonight? Will they be able to recognize?"

It was a slow and careful queer. And with the way he breathed the next words, shivers coaxingly ran down to my spine. "What will you be in his eyes?"

There came an absolute silence, an unexpected dire. And I thought he was done, but he continued, in a much more ominous tone. He bowed lower. I caught another of his ghast smile... full of disappointment and passionate revolt... for something... or maybe someone.

"A murderer."

He dropped it like a bomb.

For the first time in my life, it seems as if I have heard the most absolute judgment. I have watched movies featuring serious judgments during court trials and have even seen and heard actual judgment in a court, real life... but nothing compares to this. Nothing comes close to this. It sounded like an absolute accusation... that no one... could ever defend even to a farway extent.

It sounded like tonight's unbreakable truth.

And there will be no way anyone can unprove it.

Being under the top, I was able to thoroughly witness the succeding fall.

How she gradually took her time to kneel beside him. And how her knees... I've seen... lowkey wobble even from afar. She seemed to be full of strength earlier so I don't know why suddenly, I felt like she isn't the woman I thought she is. Like who she is portraying isn't who she really is.

Her eyes briefly glinted together with the broken chandelier above, as she clamped German by the shoulder tighter, as if a hold on to her dear life. It was unnoticeable for most but the longer I stare at it and with the position I am in, the more I confirm that her hand is really subtly shaking...and trembling in his shirt. It is restless in its position and almost the weakest hold. And that there came a significant pause in her, like she was lost in a situation.

Her vision rolled all over our house... feeble.

The chaotic scene, the injured people... and I thought I saw a frail woman in a mishap... clueless and grieving of what is done, all the while of her tight breathing... over the messy chaos of our home.

She is still vicious in my eye, but there is something I touched when her lips and orbs unsolicitedly quivered for a discreet while.

I thought it was done. That finally, all was over.

But then everyone caught how the masked men glanced at each other. Gripping firmly on their guns. Secretively moving to a direction. All pointing to the same person.

The woman clenched her jaw and closed her eyes. I thought I oversaw how she forcefully transformed. But I guess it was just my little remaining hope creeping because when she opened her mouth after a seemingly tormenting while, there was no evidence of weakness in each word she speaks.

"This... finally... is what they deserved." she finally said, withdrawing her hand from German. "And you have no right to guilt me for it. "

As soon as she raised her hand, one of his men attended to her and gave her a white handkerchief which she used to wipe the blood out of her hands. She then stood up, closed her eyes, and moved her neck left and right. Feeling it tick like a morning routine exercise. Her eyes opened and it reflected a more intense dusk.

Her eyes scared me. It was out of light.

"Since you annoyed me tonight, you do not need to be introduced properly, so let's skip you and now proceed— " she smiled the widest.

"to Mr. Luther Flinn, "

I glanced at my father again and noticed how his smirk is replaced by a scorching smug I couldn't decipher. I am scared of what she might do to him... and how he might react... and how it might kill me to see him on an ordeal he can't outstrip.

The unconquerable Luther Sievuo Flinn surveyed the room, as if on a sightseeing.

"My parents failed to inform me you are visiting today. Should have prepared fortunes and food for you and your companions. We could have welcomed you a feast," I heard my father say even when his voice is not that stable anymore. It was rasp and quavering, but undeniably nerve-racking that I could feel its bestiality to my core.

I couldn't understand the instilling tone he is injecting into the words that's coming out of his mouth. I couldn't follow what he is thinking right now and why his cast seemed to infuse heavier weight than our assailants' wrath. But I saw him gag a laugh while looking at the woman.

Mocking the woman.

Ridiculing her in his every possible way.

"You took far and even organized an event for my family. Don't you think you needed permission from the owner of where you choose to be the venue? "

He looks at her, straight in the eye. "Very unprofessional. And still such a disappointment."

Briskly, the gap between her and my father, dissolved. She is angry, vexed to an utmost anger! I could tell from the shaking.

A little grin from my dad and her madness stormed higher.

Shaking, she held him in his collar forcefully.

"You are on my fucking mercy, you son of a bitch!"

"You... don't you act so strong and nonchalant on me now. I know how fake your mask is now! Watching your home fall! Watching your family struggle their last breaths!" she said, pushing my father's weak body so hard on the floor that the sound revibrated in my ears.

But then proceeded to pull him helplessly again in a direction that will make him face my mother's state. "How hurtful it is to see your light fade its light hmm? How hurtful it is to watch her lose her bright life."

We all turned to her.

That's when I realize what my mom is doing all along.

"Please..." I chanted out of despair of not being able to do anything.

But mom's gaze is only on her proud beast. She is focused not of anything but him. Her kind eyes are considerately watching him as he challenges the offender of the house more. She is busy shedding unstoppable tears but the simple curve of her lips knocked me out.

'Handsome Sievuo '

That's what she said.

That was it.

How can she be like this? How is she crying yet delightful at the same time?

A hint of sadness and a deeper feeling I can't pronounce past her eyes... it was like sorrow and bliss in between.

I couldn't understand it.

How can she find ecstasy in a mad man...

The woman placed her hands on her cheeks and watch the both of them as if they are a documentary she is curious to study. The silky coffee brown hair remained sleek on her back even with the big moves she has executed.

I caught how my mother stretch a smile at my father. Followed by tears flowing again in her eyes. I noted the tight breaths and painful stumbles she has to bear to be able to get nearer my dad, the nearest way she can possibly reach. She then smiled again, trying again to touch my father's barren face.

After some agonizing tries, her fingers successfully tapped those cheeks. She trailed all of his face.

Delicately and lovingly... just as how she is to us. The language of touch, a language of love she's been consistent with, all of our times.

The great Luther Sievuo Flinn, a lording prodigy of numerous hardcore fields, regarded as the most superior and most sought man of his age, loose his consistent firmness and strength at the move.

Her chest waved slowly... as if it has found its peace.

I cried more.

I wanted to be in the middle, feeling atleast their warmths. And their love. And the kindness within. And the bareness of the truth that lies within their hearts.

And it kills me to be stucked, seemingly disabled and useless, pathetic and worthless like a coward soldier in a dark room! Wanting to make a difference but too shaky for a try!

I couldn't see my father's face right now for his body is turned back at me and all I can visit is my mother's hopeless situation. Intently, she moved her lips, and it seemed like she is stating something but the movement of her lips are too small to make me understand it.

For the countless time, she smiled again, and I saw how despite everything...even after everything... it reached her eyes.

Then I found her briefly looking at the eyehole I am looking through now.

She beamed at it knowingly. Like she knows I am here all along. Like she knows her smile would make me feel something I was deprived of in this situation.

Tranquility. Kindness. Motherly love.

Oh, what a torture it is seeing her genuine smile.

My heart fell in my throat when her cough trickled blood.

The urge to go out of my cage intensified. I wanted to soothe all her pain away! Wanted to stop her bleeding so bad! And in pain, I sobbed, scared that this situation will take her away from me...

With all the blurring tears in my eyes, I saw her courteous nod at the woman,

beam as she grins at German,

kiss my father's lips... solemnly cried... and genuinely smiled,

...before she closed those hooded eyes.

My tears are unstoppable for an hour. Scared and traumatized. But the amount I am shedding for this very moment is nothing compared to the pain digging in my heart.

My breathing hitched. And it was accompanied by a whirlwind chest clench. I thought it was just a fallacy and an inane folk tale but my whole world really came to an abrupt stop! Warm liquid carelessly rolled out to my checks.

It can't be...

She can't.

Of course, no! Oh my god! Please...

"Mom! M-mom... " I fatally called.

I kept bickering, calling her through the wind. Begging it to pass me back someone's easeful whisper.

Yet nothing changed. Nothing came.

So I died... even with the obvious heartbeats.

And just after a few seconds, there was a loud bark of laughter that made me fear.

And angry!

That was my father's!

The deep and low laughter boomed more.

Oh, I wish I am mistaken! That can't be my father's!

How can he laugh at this kind of matter?! I couldn't believe he can just laugh when it seems like my mother is being stripped from me! Dying!

My heart wavered and an unfamiliar rage inside me filled me to the brim. My mother is dying and he is out there, laughing like some fucked-up moron!

Why is he laughing?

Is it because of that something they'd injected him?! Why is he like that? Something seems wrong! He wouldn't laugh at this! My father loves my mother so much that it would ruin him! Destroy him! Kill him! He wouldn't even try a smile...

Minutes of unforgivable laughing tormented me.

Until he came to stop.

I watch him wipe the tears in his eyes from the laughing he just made.

"That's all you got?"

And again, I couldn't believe my ears when it said me that.

The woman's face showed how she is deeply annoyed by how my father goes unaffected by the situation. Next thing I know she already pulled out a long sharp sword out of his men to swing directly in my mom's direction!

My eyes grew wide at the sight. With my hands in my mouth, I shouted her name and my disapproval of what is about to happen.

That was the loudest cry I cried and it escaped my covering hands!

But before the sword reach her body and at the moment my cries goes louder and louder, I heard a loud booming thud above. Then a sound of a metal dropping on the floor. The hole is being covered by a large body— hiding me from the scene I was about to see. With the person's blood dripping on my face!

One...two...three...

I couldn't count how many drips. Who cares about it?!

I punched and punched my chest to stop myself from shouting. To stop myself from hurting. But it is very useless. In fact, it seemed to trigger more tears in my eyes!

I threw my weakening body on the floor. Not trying to be careful of anything anymore. I whimpered badly on the floor. Pinched myself hard till I bleed... so that I could wake up from the horrible bad dream, and live again with my mom, unscathed and not dying.

But nothing happened.

...maybe because it wasn't really just a dream...

And like the chaos didn't even take place, a while of deafening silence happened.

Minutes after, the place is suddenly filled with gunshots and steps I couldn't count no more. Walking, shouting, running, — and running again. It is too hard to follow anymore.

The eyehole is emptied again!

It was a long while before it stopped.

And even if I'm scared and shaking, I peeked through it and saw my mom's peaceful face lying on the floor. Without thinking a second of whether there are people outside or I will die going out of this place, the cage opened with all of my might. So I ran to hold and embrace my mom. The baby pink sheer dress my mom made me wear swayed with the exigent boldness of my moves.

Close up, I saw how it became unfortunate for her. I covered my face with my palms as my sobs gets more deafening.

What have they done to you...

Her pale skin was covered with bruises. Her hair is disheveled. Her body, naked, and brutally painted with wounds. I couldn't even say a word aside from "mom", as my lips are trembling to look for her breathing which keeps failing to show up.

I reached for those dead bodies, and ripped! And ripped and ripped the fabrics of the clothes they are wearing!

Neverminding the lines slicing in my hands.

My mother doesn't deserve this. I.. better make her beautiful again! I should make her wear clothes like how she does to me!

She said a woman's body is sacred and should be treated with the best care. So I have to treat hers with extra care and cover her beauty not everyone deserves to see!

With my shaking hands, I've successfully made her body covered by the pieces I've ripped. They are stained by blood, by other people's blood, and mine.

My mother is dressed with blood.

My body is convulsing at the sight.

I laid down. Reached for her and cuddled her. I cried in her chest. I cried hard with all of my heart. Pathetically hoping to share its beats with the unbeaten one.

My heart is clenching, beating fast. My breathing is labored. My face is painted by the drips of blood.

And my mother turns into a canvas— with blood, bruises, and wounds as the paintbrush.